of the door, shaking hands with newcomers,
inviting them over and over again to cut loose and whoop it along. Into
the ears of his more intimate male acquaintances he dropped a word as
to punch and cigars in the harness room later on, winking with vast
intelligence. Ranchers from remoter parts of the country appeared:
Garnett, from the Ruby rancho, Keast, from the ranch of the same name,
Gethings, of the San Pablo, Chattern, of the Bonanza, and others and
still others, a score of them--elderly men, for the most part, bearded,
slow of speech, deliberate, dressed in broadcloth. Old Broderson, who
entered with his wife on his arm, fell in with this type, and with them
came a certain Dabney, of whom nothing but his name was known, a silent
old man, who made no friends, whom nobody knew or spoke to, who was seen
only upon such occasions as this, coming from no one knew where, going,
no one cared to inquire whither.

Between eight and half-past, Magnus Derrick and his family were seen.
Magnus's entry caused no little impression. Some said: "There's the
Governor," and called their companions' attention to the thin,
erect figure, commanding, imposing, dominating all in his immediate
neighbourhood. Harran came with him, wearing a cut-away suit of black.
He was undeniably handsome, young and fresh looking, his cheeks highly
coloured, quite the finest looking of all the younger men; blond,
strong, with that certain courtliness of manner that had always made him
liked. He took his mother upon his arm and conducted her to a seat by
the side of Mrs. Broderson.

Annie Derrick was very pretty that evening. She was dressed in a grey
silk gown with a collar of pink velvet. Her light brown hair that yet
retained so much of its brightness was transfixed by a high, shell comb,
very Spanish. But the look of uneasiness in her large eyes--the eyes of
a young girl--was deepening every day. The expression of innocence
and inquiry which they so easily assumed, was disturbed by a faint
suggestion of aversion, almost of terror. She settled herself in her
place, in the corner of the hall, in the rear rank of chairs, a little
frightened by the glare of lights, the hum of talk and the shifting
crowd, glad to be out of the way, to attract no attention, willing to
obliterate herself.

All at once Annixter, who had just shaken hands with Dyke, his mother
and the little tad, moved abruptly in his place, drawing in his breath
sharply. The crowd around